


A Trip Down Memory Lane

by Citron0



Series: Gaster and Sans Mayhem [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gaster Blasters, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-26 00:11:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citron0/pseuds/Citron0
Summary: A sort of sequel to "Gaster and Sans."





	1. Prologue: "HOLE-Y SHIT."

My old boss, nevermind, had asked me to meet with him in his office. I walked in a bit dazed and inquired, "Why'd ya call me in here, G?" A 6-foot tall skeleton turned around to meet my gaze. 

The cracks he has are– *were* unnerving. One goes up from his right eye socket and the other goes down from his left eye socket and stops at his mouth.

"Ah, Sans, I'm glad you could make it." His tone was the same tone he had used every time he tried pressuring me into joining him on one of his, ugh, experiments. I took a step backwards and my right hand reflectively reached for the door from behind. He then shut the door with his purple magic.

My thoughts were swarming, "No, no, no. Not again! I don't want to be a part of this!" My left hand rose to cover my left eye socket instinctively as the cyan leaked through the openings in my skeletal palm.

My almost permanent smile twitched and almost formed a grimace as I tried to speak, "Gas–Doc, I don't want to be a part of this." He laughed, "Don't worry, boy, this won't hurt you." He quickly spun around and lifted up a small skull of some kind.

It was like a cat's, a lizard's, and a dragon's–Or what I'd imagine a dragon's would look like.

"What is THAT!?" I ask as I jostles the doorknob. He was rubbing its 'chin.' "I'm glad you asked, my boy. It is in fact a new model of the barrier breaking artificial magic." I calmed down slightly, "So a gast–, uh, blaster?" He clasped his equally bony hands together and exclaimed, "Precisely! Except this one isn't for Perseverance magic." I blinked, "Then what's it for?" His eye sockets' lights lit up, "Patience," he gestured to the gaping holes in his hands then looked at mine, for they were both exposed. I shoved them into my lab coat's pockets violently. He continued, "As you already know, they need to be imprinted onto the recipient's magic. There is only one way to do that for skeleton monsters like us, and that's to have the 'blaster' blast a hole into both of your hands." The blaster looked at me as if it was sensing my magic. I laughed nervously. It floated closer to me. The doctor just stood there and watched; heck, he even moved over to the side. I felt sweat forming on the sides of my skull. My left hand jumped out of my pocket and tried to swat it away like it was a bug. Everyone and their pets know that that never works. It watched my hand patiently and pounced at it and clamped on. It bit my hand and shot a perfectly shaped hole into my palm. I fell to one knee trying to restrain myself from crying out in pain. It let go and I stared at my palm wordlessly for a second before I screamed, "GASTER, WHAT THE HELL!? 'NO' FUCKING MEANS 'NO!'"

Tears formed from the pain as I ran away, I stupidly took out my other undamaged hand and rubbed my palm like that was going to fix it. My right hand detached from my left and wavered in the dangerous air. I groaned miserably as I looked at my hands, "Oh, Gaster, why?" He giggled, "You'll, hee, thank me later."

Before I could think about saying anything else, that little mongrel attached to my hand again, except it was my right hand. "No, get off of my you little cretin!" I attempted to shake off the menace, but despite my efforts, it was fruitless. I grabbed it with my left and tried to pry it off of my hand and forearm.

After a good thirty seconds, it worked and I darted out the door. I ran as fast as I could to my work station. I turned around to check if they were following me. They weren't, so I sat down in my chair and accidentally passed out. That all-nighter I pulled finally caught up with me.

I blinked my eyelids open and scanned the area. I spotted Dr. W.D. Gaster to my left; never a good sign. I looked to my right and saw at least 15 gaster blasters. I slipped a gasp and G noticed that I was awake, "Oh good, you're up." I rubbed my eyelids with my right hand as I tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I rose up a little and I heard the hospital bed squeak I stared at it and so did the gaster blasters apparently. 

"What's going on?" My voice sounded dry. Gaster said calmly, "While you were asleep, the sixth human soul came in straight from the capital and from our benefactor. I squinted in the soft light at Gaster, "King Asgore?" He didn't hesitate as he proceeded, "Indeed, and as you are aware, there are seven human souls needed to break the barrier. There's Patience, Bravery, Integrity, Perseverance," He paused briefly as if disgusted by the next word he was going to say, "Kindness, Justice, and the strongest of all, Determination." I nodded. "When you were first hired, four years ago, I had you do a physical exam that would best tell me what kinds of magic suit you. You are a part of a rare few whose magic alines in two different categories. Even your brother only has Integrity." I laughed dryly, "Heh, I'm the older brother, it's kinda my job to protect him." I absentmindedly rubbed my left hand across the back of my neck.

A shiver went down my spine as I felt the hole. I instantly remembered what happened earlier. I begrudgingly extended my arms so I could see both of my hands.

"Ugh," I moaned while I did so. I glared at the perfectly circular holes that were smack-dab in the middle of my palms. Gaster stepped closer to where I was sitting and showed me his hands again. "Look," he said excitedly as he placed his on top of mine, "Father and son." My face distorted in disgust–, at least figuratively. "Don't make this any weirder than it already is." I muttered before changing the subject, "So those blasters?" I questioned about them while pointing to the ones that are 'linked' to my magic and thus to me. "Yes, they're yours. Ỉ̧̨̡̤̼̜̜͈̽s̛̝͎̰͖̘̳̩͐͂̉̓̆n̦̱̟͎ͭͩ̾̏'̹͈͇͔͓̈ͭ̓͛̄̓͑̽̊͟͢t͇͔̘͖͙̅ͦͩ̍ͩ͆͞ ̵̥̱͊ͥ̋ͥ̌ͨͫt̪͖̘̬̞̑̈ͮͧ͂ͦ͗͟h̶͎ͫ̂̉́͜á̷͚̥͖̀ͭ͂͋͌t̸ͣ̄ͥ̍̑҉̫͉̼̱̳̜̞͚͠ ̵͖̬͎͖̭̗͍̣ͨͦ̎͗͒̍̕w̴̤̣̱̰͔ͮ͗ͪ͋͆̏͜͢o̺͂n̸̲̰̓ͤͫͫͤ̕d̢̔̿͊̂̂͑͏̼͈͉̳͍̭͎̥eͫ̉̇̏͏̯̜͍͔͔̦̹r͎̺͖̥̥͚̋ͧ̔̓̂f̙̳̱͕̼̮̳̍͊ͨ͋̍̇ͭ͜͠ü̼̙̏̔̆̓̃̆l̡̬̮̼͚̗̜͈̅͗̌̊̈̓̾̚?̵̤͇͉̪̙̲͑̌̓̊͑"  
"  
͎̣̘̼͊̀͊̊͌ͪ̆͑ͫ̑ͤͫ̈́ͥ͛̄̃ͩ͐͗ͫ̾̌͑ͥ̓̂̔͗ͭ̽̆ͯ̚̕̚͏͏̦͇̹͎̻̝̠̺̺̟̮̭̥̠͓͍ ̴̂ͮ͗̿̓̒ͤͮ̃̐ͧ̒̂͑̀͘͟͠͏̗̲͇͇͕̥̫̬̝̯̪͔͕̙ͅ ̭̮̳͚ͦͨͤͬ̂̏̏̔ͫ͋ͩͬ͂͆̔̕͢ͅͅ ̴̸̻̟̟͉̠̤̰̥̼̦̬̓͆ͮͩ̈́͊̎̒͌̂͢ͅ ̢̧̽̏͒ͨ̇̉̒̾ͣ̑̐͐ͬ̈́̎̚͞͏̤̹̳̝̲̞̺͇̜̝̗̦̮ ̛̛̭̬͚̤͓̦̰̝̘̞ͦͪ̒͂̊̔ͣ͛ͥ͂ͧ̇͟͞͞ͅ ͚͚̹̫̩̭̗̞̳͎͕̦̣̞ͨ̄ͫͭ̒ͤͦ̊ͬͣ

 

I stirred in my sleep.  
̴̷̮̩̖̤͙̍́̒͛ͧͯ̉ͥ͘ ̡͓̯̭͈̘͕͔̻̺̭̣̻̫̪̥͈̺ͣͩ̎̾̽ͮͫ̑̅̒͐̎ͯ͛͠ Sweat soaked my pj's.  
I was mumbling in my slumber.

̴̸̢̡͓̲͔̪̗̼̼͎̞͔͔̩̦̱̪̦͍̟ͤ͐̍̔̿͛ͣ͑͐̿͟ ̷̉̈́̀ͥͫͧ̓̔̈҉̖͍̠̰͖̝̳͓̳͖̱͍͈̤͇ ̧̥̳̦̦̘̝̠̹̳̖͔̳̜̟̹̭͕ͣ̔͌ͫͬ̾ͭ̀ͦ̿ͣ͆̃ͅ ̷̞̱͓̬͕̬̥͔̎ͤͧͤ̐̍͟͜͠ ̷̵̧̡̛̗̟̹̲̤͎̪̣̻̬̤͍̭̬̗͈͙̝̜͙̥̪̯̹̖̖͍ͭ̓̌͗ͭ̊ͬ̋͋̊̎ͣ̽̾ͦ̅ͬ͗̈́ͮ̄̽͊͊͑̎͘ 

̡͊ͨ̇͒͗͐̋ͧ̉̄ͣͭ̑́͘͟͏̴̪̥̫̰̦̞͚͇̝̺̤ ̵̹̰̱̯͉̦̖̥̺̰ͩͨ̈́̈́͐̅ͬ̔ͨ͑͂͑̔̔ͫ͗̎ͅ ͮ͌ͤ̀̌


	2. "A-VOIDing Uncomfortable Topics."

Chapter One: "A-VOIDing Uncomfortable Topics."

"*N̵͖̭̋̈́͋̉̾ͨ̿̚͟͡O̫͍ͬ͑ͧ͒!" I screeched as I jolted out of my memory-filled nightmares, drenched in a layer of sticky sweat. I glanced at the alarm clock, of which was bathed in my frantic eye's cyan and yellow gleam. In the flickering bright colours, I squinted to read the time, "*3:52 am." I looked at my gloveless hands and stared into the old holes that were burning like they were made today. I knew what that meant. I summoned all the gaster blasters in my arsenal, and the stinging lingering flames of the impact of the laser all those years ago started fade. All of them looked up at me as if to ask why I summoned them in my room when there were clearly no threats. I sighed and said, "*alright, fellas, we're going to the woods again." And just like that, in a flash, we were gone.

Still in pajamas and sans my mittens, heh, I warped to an abandoned forest clearing of the Snowdin Woodlands with all my little blasters. When we touched base, I petted one and shot rapid rounds at the ceiling until I had used up enough energy to go back to sleep. I gazed at my mittenless mitts and muttered, "*why couldn't you just let me forget like everyone else, g?" My blasters are essentially me, and thus are aware of all of my emotions. Even if they can't speak or help me most of the time, they love to provide at least some form of support. Even if it's in the middle of a forest at 4 o' clock in the morning. In this case, I somehow had started crying without even taking notice. They began to stockpile on top of me like how a cat would. They were moving me about like a sack of potatoes and I tripped over a tree stump.

The blasters can be a little rib-tickling when they squeeze their way in under my shirt. I stood up as a way to help regain my composure, but I couldn't help it, I bursted into boisterous chuckles, "*hey! cut it out! heh heh heh!" My hoard of blasters pushed me into a snow-covered pine tree. Snow plummeted on top of me as I bumped into it. It fell on top of my nightcap and over my, thankfully, closed eyelids. I giggled and was still flushed from the experience; during such, some of the white snow slipped through my the small gaps In my teeth and landed on the blasters. They recoiled by shaking their skulls about like an animal.

I felt much better after that, heck, I /almost/ completely forgot what I was upset about. I just felt so satisfied with myself that I just passed out on the gaster blasters. It's wasn't like I hadn't done it beforehand.

I was sleeping peacefully for what felt like the first time in months. Back in bed, courtesy of my blasters and my constantly opened window– until, Papyrus. A loud banging on my door served as a makeshift alarm clock these days. "SANS, YOU LAZYBONES, WAKE UP! YOU'VE BEEN NAPPING THROUGH THE NIGHT," He paused to mull over his statement, then added, "AGAIN!"

I flopped over the bed onto a couple of blasters. My eye lights widened as I remembered how I got back here. Startled by Papyrus' accusations, I quickly returned all them into my inventory. As I reached for my mittens I both heard and felt a clank along my ribs. I lift up my shirt to see a blaster living there. It goes back. I glance at my bed to see five blasters sitting in my bed. They go back too. "*okay," I think as I assess the room, "*i think that's all of them."

I swiftly changed into my everyday attire of a blue hoodie, black gym shorts, rose coloured slippers, and a faded grey turtleneck. I step out of my doorway to meet an anxious, but still pompous Papyrus.

As we went on a walk to the usual human hunting grounds, I noticed that Papyrus was looking kind of nervous, so I pressed, "*what's botherin' ya, bro?" Pap looked like he was tossed out of his thoughts and said to me whilst he pointed at my grayish blue mitts, "Why do you always wear those mittens? You even wear them when you work shifts in Hotland."

It seemed like he had been mustering up the courage for awhile now. I shrugged, "It's cold?" Papyrus nodded for a moment before my ferrous fib fell flat, "Wait–," He paused and ruminated to himself then continued, "skeletons don't feel temperatures; at least ones as mild as Snowdin's."

I realized then that I should permanently avoid this topic– well– forever. I dismissed him saying, "*don't worry about it." And we patrolled the area in mostly silence and small talk before I had to work another shift. 

The day passed normally until I got to Grillby's. I moseyed into the bar as I did usually, and greeted the other frequenters like myself, first. Then I sat at my practically reserved bar stool that is almost face to face with the bar tender, Grillby.

I ordered a drink from the top of my head and I waited, I slipped off my gloves and stuffed them into my jacket pockets. I balled my hands into fists to try and hide the holes.

I think Grillby had noticed how suddenly insecure I was today, because he didn't pester me about my tab as he passed me the drink menú. 

After a couple of drinks, I turned to the bartender. "*grillbz?" I started weakly, "*do you think there's a reason why we still exist right now?" I paused and spun the contents of my glass around with my left hand. I looked up and presumed, "*why /I/ still exist right now?" I wanted to cry, I took another sip. "*like fuck, grillby, why am I the only person in the underground who still remembers his name, his role, his–," I let out a painful sob, "*–his voice." I buried my face into my hoodie's sleeve. I muttered in the madness, "*i just want to go back and say, 'i'm sorry!'" My guilt consumed my speech, "*it's my fault, grillby!" I looked up at the flame monster with fresh tears in my eyes and shouted as I thrusted my arms across the table to my wingspan, "*it's /all/ my fault that he's stuck where he is!"

And then, well, I can't remember what happened next, but I wasn't allowed to drink there for at least a week. Papyrus brought me home at 1:45 am that night.

"SANS," He said meekly, "GRILLBY CALLED ME TO COME GET YOU, HE SAID THAT YOU WERE DRINKING AGAIN." He had legitimate concern in his eye sockets, I glanced away at his statement. "BROTHER, I'M WORRIED; INCLUDING THIS TIME, THIS HAS BEEN THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK THAT THIS HAS HAPPENED." I messed with the strings on my hoodie as he talked. I just couldn't meet his eyes that night, "PLEASE, SANS, I WANT TO HELP YOU, BUT YOU NEVER TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT'S GOING ON IN YOUR LIFE. IF YOU JUST OPEN UP TO ME, MAYBE WE CAN RESOLVE YOUR ISSUES TOGETHER. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE. IS IT NOT THE JOB OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO HELP EVERYONE IN NEED? THAT WOULD INCLUDE YOU TOO, SANS." I sighed, "*you won't remember, bro." I look away and uttered, "*that fucking flower won't let 'cha." Then, I retreated to my room and retired for the night.


	3. "A GHASTLY Intervention."

I opened my eyes to see myself surrounded by darkness, no, nothingness, yet I could see my own features easily. My eyes skimmed the area for anything, anything at all. "*where am i?"

After a couple of eerie minutes, a blaring voice ricocheted and circled around me. It sounded like a whisper, but even as a whisper, I could recognize that man from anywhere. "S A N S." I wanted to cover my nonexistent ears, or at least my eye sockets. I placed my hands over them and realized that I'm not graced with having my gloves, so I shoved them in my pockets. "S A N S , G E T M E O U T ." I blinked, "*of what?" "T H E V O I D , Y O U I M B E C I L E !" I whistled, "*so that's what this place is called, and might i add, you haven't aged a day since the last day i saw you." I felt like Gaster rolled his eyes after that last sentence, because he kicked me out of my own dream, "G E T O U T ."

I woke up to the same familiar colours of cyan and yellow flickering in the night. I glanced at my grey borrowed clock from Waterfall, "*12:34 am." I thought, "*wow, it's not even 1 yet." I read the time again, "*12:35, i went to sleep at 2, so…" Suddenly it hit me, "*oh, oh no." A reset. I searched my pockets for my phone and read the date. "*oh boy." I was a whole three weeks in the past.

I had to check, I had to know. I swiftly exited my dirty room and yelled Papyrus' name. "*PAPYRUS?!" No response. "*that's okay, that's okay." I said as I reasoned with myself. "*he's probably asleep." I opened the door to his room and saw a sleeping Papyrus, snug in bed. "*whew." I went back to my bed and slept.

(Flashback)

I picked up the stuffed piles of folders that were supposed to be my schedule for the week. "Gosh, the Doc is getting kinda fond of me. All the these assignments are paired with him." He even gave me an increased pay because of most of the money is going into Papyrus' college fund. "I can't believe I actually took a course in 'How to work with having holes in your hands.' By whom else other than Dr. W.D. Gaster himself. But hey, at least I'm not dropping things all the time now, so that's something. I guess?" I muttered at an imperceivable frequency.

His voice came on the intercom, "Sans, can you meet me in my office in ten minutes?" It sounded like a question, but I knew it wasn't. I groaned as I packed up some of the files I might have to work on. I grabbed several rubber bands and wrapped them around each file so the contents wouldn't spill out on the way there.

My arms did not like the strain of carrying those folders. I wouldn't blame 'em either; when you have one attack point, how could you even think about calling yourself strong.

After some dragged out painful minutes, I finally made it to his office. I knocked and he unlocked the door. I waited for a, "Come in," before I entered. After a struggle of how to open a door with full hands, I fell into the room, the weight was way too much for me to handle. "Oof." Was all I could say. Thankfully, Gaster caught me with his magic instead of watching me plummet.

"Thanks, G." I thanked as I dusted myself off. "So, what did ya call me in for?" He put my folders on his desk and commanded, "Come with me."

I followed him to the training room that was unseen to any of the other coworkers. I waited for him to say something. Bullets of sweat were forming on my skull. "It isn't more Determination, was it?" I silently wondered anxiously. "Sans, I want you to summon a gaster blaster." I stared at my bare hands, "H-how?" I glanced at him and saw the usual syringe poking out of his black lab coat's pocket. It was filled to the brim with that vile red liquid. I focused by trying to remember what it looked like. Seemingly out of nowhere, I felt a shiver go down my spine and one popped into existence. I gazed at it with fear in my eyes. It started floating over to me. I backed up; it inched closer. I backed up more; it inched even closer until I was pressing myself against the wall.

I winced as it hovered under my hand, it was acting like a dog that wanted to be pet. I put my hands in the air and the blaster saw an opening in my shirt. I saw where its eye lights were going, but a second too late. "Ack! Gaster, help!" I felt its bones rattling against mine. More specifically, my rib cage. The thing was squirming around under my shirt. I felt so violated, and it tickled, which was a new feeling for me. "W-what is this? Why, heh, am I, heh, laugh–, heh, –ing?" Gaster scribbled something down on his clipboard, "Good, you're bonding with it." "Didn't– heh– I already– heh– do that?" "That was a physical bonding process, it's good for you to bond with them emotionally too." I shook it off, "I'm not using these, anymore than I have to." "Sans." "No, I can't keep pretending like what you did to me was okay. I'm reporting this to the king. This is what you get for not letting me wear gloves here. You know what, maybe I should quit?" Gaster stated blankly, "You know you can't afford to do that." A wicked grin appeared, "Besides, who else would teach you how to use the blasters?" "Can't you just take them out of my magic? Ever since I got them, I've had nightmares every night." "All the more reason for you to bond with them." I tried to stuff it back into my inventory. "Uh, how do you put this back?" Great, just great, now I was proving his point. He sat down in his chair, fiddling with his thumbs. I kicked it, and the blaster looked at me like a kicked puppy– which I suppose it was. I flinched and felt a dull ache come from my tailbone. Gaster smirked, and a tail of his own appeared behind him.

Unaware that I was even growing a tail, I said with panic etched into my tone, "You've done even more body modifications on yourself!? That's it, I qui–?" I tripped over what appeared to be a skeletal snake. It took a second before I recognized it as a tail. Gripping the sides of my skull, "What have to done to me!?" He spoke sarcastically, "Who, me? I've just enabled you to be the best you could be. I know how low all your stats are– and if things go well– you won't have to worry about being dusted at any moment anymore." I felt my osteoporosis lessen as claws grew from my feet and hands. He took out his syringe slowly. "If I give you this, you'll be able to switch between forms however your choosing." I spoke with a low growl, "Get away from me." The blaster faced its creator with just as much malice in its eyes as I did.   
Suddenly, there was a crack in my spine, in the midst of our stand-off, that forced me to stand on all fours. Gaster let his body do the same. "Stand still." He commanded and I blindly followed. Something was happening to me, and I really wanted it to stop.

As the syringe dug deeper and deeper into my bone, I felt more and more like myself. I yelped as my back fixed itself and my jaw split in two. I stood up wearily and dusted myself off. Gaster was watching me from his expensive chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too lazy to format this, maybe later.

**Author's Note:**

> Young!Me pulled no fucking punches.


End file.
